


hit me with your best shot

by ang3lba3, Mellomailbox



Series: Vampires [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Consensual Sex, Established Relationship, Intoxication, Knives, Light BDSM, M/M, Masochist Edward Elric, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Rimming, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23407888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellomailbox/pseuds/Mellomailbox
Summary: Roy and Ed have been having flings so long it's practically become habit. When Ed accepts a contract to kill Roy, he finds that mixing business and pleasure isn't recommended for a reason.In which: some habits are harder to break than others, Roy and Ed make confessions by not confessing much of anything at all, and the rules of the game are made.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Series: Vampires [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683838
Comments: 9
Kudos: 85





	hit me with your best shot

“Is this foreplay?” Roy asks.

Ed twirls the knife between his knuckles showily. It’s pretty impressive how smooth the gesture is with the way Ed’s wearing black nitrile gloves, shiny and slick and difficult to wield something so precise as the paring knife he’s doing coin tricks with. 

God, he’s fucking gorgeous, and Ed flicks his long braid over his shoulder to dance down his spine, the tail ending just above his belt. He’s grown it out a lot since the last time they--

Their last. Well. 

“It’s not _not_ foreplay,” Ed answers serenely. His eyes are flecked amber and scarlet around the pupil, gold shining too bright in the moonlit library. It’s clearly been a while since he’s fed, which isn’t out of the ordinary for their--This. 

Unfortunately, being thirsty means Ed’s reflexes, already significantly sharper than Roy’s own, are that much better. He regrets the bottle of blood wine he’d indulged in at supper. 

Roy licks his lips. 

And then Ed lunges at him, knife first, and with disturbing intent. Roy crashes backwards into a bookcase. The last thing he sees before the world goes dark is his leather bound, gold leafed Entire Collected Works of Shakespeare with Annotations and Commentary heading straight for his face.

***

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Ed snarls, staring at the collapsed form of his sometimes fuckbuddy, all the time annoyance. He throws the knife into the floor, but he’s too pissy, it doesn’t stick in straight and instead clatters around and slices into Roy’s ankle a bit. 

“Disappointing,” Lust hums in agreement from where she’s been watching from the rafters. 

“PATHETIC!” Ed yells. He spins towards Lust, fuming. He hadn’t even had a chance to let Roy _escape._ “Look. I can’t kill him like this. This is just—” 

“Sad,” Lust agrees, tapping a painted nail to her top lip. “I paid you far too much to allow such an… _unsatisfying_ performance.”

“This is beneath me,” Ed growls. He stares accusingly at Roy, slumped against his bookcase, head dripping a slow stream onto a page of A Midsummer’s Night Dream. “I don’t slaughter the defenseless, or children. Those are like, my only rules. And what does he do? _Immediately_ turn into a flailing infant and knock himself unconscious.”

“Take two,” Lust says, and claps her hands together decisively. “And I think— I really do have to get this on film, I’m going to go buy a… camera? Phone? Which of those are what you use now?”

“Ugh,” Ed says, and digs into one of the back pockets of his leather pants. There’s got to be some sort of void magic on these pants, because he can fit _so much_ in them but the seams are always smooth. He pulls out one of his spare phones and tosses it to Lust. “There you go, grandma.” 

Lust narrows her eyes and taps it on. “Try that again, sweetheart,” she replies icily, nails extending just a little. 

“Aw, Lust, you know me,” Ed says with a wink, already heading toward the window. “I love an older woman.”

He vaults out just as her nails hit the air where his spinal column was, cackling. They do have fun together, even if they’ve drifted apart a bit since Rome. Her fingers retreat, and Ed pulls himself back in, wandering over to check on Roy. If he dies of a _hardcover_... 

Roy makes a snuffling noise where he’s slumped on the floor and twitches, one hand coming to rub at his nose with the knuckles. Ed kneels down and pokes him with the hilt of the knife, right in the disgustingly perfect cheekbone. Nothing. He shrugs and licks some of the blood off of his temple as Lust scoffs. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning back to swipe some off of the bottom of his lip with his thumb, “waste not want not, y’know?” 

Lust raises a perfectly arched brow at him and looks down just as there’s a sharp pinch in his calf. Pain, then heat, and it floods his body rapidly, moving from where Roy’s leaned up woozily and bit him through his _expensive leather pants that are probably magic_. 

“That _motherfucker,”_ Ed wheezes, catching himself with a hand on the shelf as he starts to sway. They’ve never— _they don’t do that._ That’s personal, too personal for what they have. 

Okay, maybe not never. Maybe a few times, just, sometimes. Special occasions making for even more special orgasms.

It’s apparent from the tinkle of Lust’s laugh that she can tell, as she fucking— _abandons him—_

“GET BACK HERE AND HELP ME!” Ed yells after her.

“Fuck you,” Roy says muzzily where he’s now actively drinking from Ed’s leg. His fangs retract back into his gums and he laps at the puncture, sealing his lips and sucking to bring the blood up, one hand gripping Ed’s ankle. 

“You should be glad I don’t kick you in the face,” Ed says severely, white knuckled grip on the shelves. His bones feel like melted chocolate, his entire body sweet and hot. 

“Apparently I should be glad you didn’t bury a knife in my jugular,” Roy responds some moments later, pulling off to glare at Ed, lips shiny and dark. “Seriously? You accepted a hit on me from _Lust?”_

“Ya think my foreplay joke is funny yet?” Ed manages, knees starting to wobble. He wants to sit down. He wants to sit down right onto Roy’s _dick._

Roy sits up and wipes the back of his hand across his lips, which _rude and wasteful_ , and staggers to his feet. “Well, I’m not going to say that it was pleasant seeing you, sweets,” he says. 

“Not yet you aren’t,” Ed says, and flops himself onto him, wrapping his arms around Roy’s waist, burying his face in his neck. “I’m so glad you’re stupid.”

Roy buries his hand in Ed’s hair and he pushes back against it, seeking out skritches. Roy pulls instead, _yes_ , but uses the hold to peel Ed off of him and toss him aside. 

“You have real fucking trust issues,” Ed says into the hardwood floor. “You know that? You’re a piece of work.”

“You’re going to kill me after I fuck you,” Roy responds, “So I’d say I’m behaving rather mildly all things considered. What if _I_ murdered _you?_ You ever think about that one, love?” 

Ed rolls onto his back, pops the button on his pants. “Unlike me, you’re predictable,” he says, and shoves them down a bit. Can’t depend on Roy for anything. Can’t depend on him to run away, can’t depend on him to fuck you, can’t depend on him to like you— can just depend on him to be dramatic. The horrors of knowing a poet. 

“Roy? Imma need you to use your head on this one. But you can use the little head first, if it helps.”

“Mm,” Roy says, and slides his palms along Ed’s thighs and up the back of his leather jacket. He starts pulling out knives one by one, dropping them demonstrably onto the hardwood, stare flat and unimpressed as each one lands. 

“It was... _something_ while it lasted, I suppose,” Roy decides, and collects the knives in his hands. Ed goes to sit up, like hell he’s gonna let the bastard leave, but Roy catches his wrist and slams it above his head. 

“It’s like you don’t even _know me,”_ Ed moans, and arches into it. 

Roy stabs a knife through the palm, straight into theflooring. Ed howls, and Roy makes quick work of the other hand, pressing the point of a third to the inside of his thigh threateningly. 

“You don’t even deserve what I’m trying to do for you,” Ed spits. He’s still not fighting back, and he’s not sure how much more clear he can _get._ “You giant _fuck up.”_

“You’re the one who accepted a fucking _hit on me_ you utter _wretch_. What, did you think that I wouldn’t fight back?” 

Ed laughs at that. “Actually, you know what? I _had_ thought you’d fight back! That’s what made it so weird when you decided to take a nap with your boy Willy!”

 _Notice how_ I’m _not fighting back, you giant fucking dunce,_ Ed thinks despairingly. He’s not willing to say it out loud, not when that’s evidence Lust could turn against him later. He kind of doubts she’s still around, though. But now it’s like— a _thing._ Roy should know him better. He _should,_ they’ve been together on and off for over a hundred years, and he doesn’t even know what Ed looks like when he’s— 

Roy’s fangs drop and he hisses, a sure sign that they’ve moved past playful banter and into real anger. The knife presses more firmly against Ed’s femoral artery, piercing the leather. “I should drink you dry, you little masochist.”

“Yeah, I’m a real fucking sucker for punishment,” Ed says, and stares at the ceiling, jaw clenched. He feels hurt? Actually? Should he feel hurt about this? _Why_ is he hurt about this?

Roy dips down and swallows him to the root, nose pressed firmly to Ed’s skin, hands on his thighs to keep him from crushing his head like a watermelon.

 _Oh,_ Ed thinks, dragging a ragged breath in a way that has very little to do with the blowjob. _Oh. He did notice._

His heart does a terrible double squeeze in his chest, much too fast, and he—

_comes._

“Oh no,” Ed says to the ceiling.

***

When Roy pulls off he’s laughing, voice rough despite not being throat fucked _at all._ There’s nothing so powerful as the knowledge that he can make Edward fucking Elric come in ten seconds flat, and if that self esteem boost isn’t enough to forgive the brat for knocking him out, it sure is close. 

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Ed says, voice tired and a bit sad around the edges.

“Oh, no,” Roy says, licking along the underside of Ed’s half hard cock. He didn’t ejaculate, because vampires don’t do that; simply redirected the blood to what was momentarily a more important organ, obviously against his will. “What did you think of?”

These sorts of rapid orgasms are usually prelude to some mathematical nonsense that could cure cancer or cataracts or something, but usually end up in a leather bound journal hidden wherever Ed actually lives. 

“I—” Ed says, and then clears his throat. “Um. What do you know about the biological processes of hair loss with age in humans? Think I had an idea on how to...fix that.”

“Oh?” Roy asks. That would be— incredibly lucrative.

“Wigs,” Ed mutters. 

Roy laughs again and shoves Ed’s pants the rest of the way down. Rather than remove his combat boots he tears the garment in half, giving him the flexibility to fold Ed in half and bite down on one of his ass cheeks, fangs and all. He doesn’t release any venom this time. 

Ed makes this shrill little keening noise, muscles and tendons twitching under Roy’s mouth.

“I am going to fuck you, and then I am going to give you back all of your knives blade first.” He bites again, slightly higher up where the curve of Ed’s ass meets his thigh, smooth and unmarred. Ed whines, shivering.

“When did you get good at sex?” Ed asks.

“Then I am going to leave you here for Lust to find, another personal testimony to how I am _far more_ impressive a sexual partner than her.” He continues, ignoring Ed’s weak attempt to antagonize him. 

“Aw babe,” Ed croons. “It’s so sweet to give her your sloppy seconds. I’ll make sure to let her know that you warmed me up for her.”

“Ugh,” Roy says sexily, and bites down again, jaw taut and nails digging into Ed’s skin where they’re just a little too sharp. He shakes his mouth a little in irritation, pulling more desperate sounds from Ed. 

“What?” Ed moans, an awful cross between slutty and sarcastic. “Don’t wanna think about how you’re leaving me nude and pinned down for _Lust?_ Jealous of your own punishment? I would be.” 

Roy lets go and laps at the small bit of blood oozing from the incision marks, letting the tip of his tongue prod at Ed’s hole without delving any deeper. He traces Ed’s femoral artery with his nail, tracing the light scrape that the knife gave him through the leather earlier. “I think that this is a good home for one of your weapons,” He hums. “Hopefully you’ll bleed out before anyone finds you.” 

“Thigh holster,” Ed giggles. It’s obnoxiously pleased. Roy is trying to— to _menace_ him. Roy _is_ menacing him, Ed’s pinned to the floor with _knives_ and full of wounds from Roy’s mouth. And Ed is _giggling._

“Christ above,” Roy sighs, and bites around Ed’s hole, teeth sinking into sensitive flesh and tongue pointed, thrusting inside. Edward shows up with someone who could quite literally be called an immortal enemy of his in tow, displaying a desire to do him real harm, and he doesn’t even have the decency to act contrite about it. 

He opens his jaw wider and fucks in deeper with his tongue in punishment. Ed’s hips wriggle, but he’s unable to get any kind of real leverage to fuck back in the position he is in, so he just twists side to side in Roy’s hands, panting out little _ah, ah, ah’s._

“Trollop,” Roy rasps when he pulls away, face slicked with blood and saliva. He wipes it on Ed’s leg and crawls up his body, tonguing at his top lip. “You wanted this, and you want me to leave you for another powerful vampire to ravage you.” 

“You gonna make me wear a scarlet letter?” Ed asks, eyes lidded. “I promise I’ll earn the A.”

“I am going to make you wear my _bite,”_ Roy answers, thrilling at the way Ed’s pupils dilate and brows pinch in concern. “Where people will see it,” Roy clarifies, just to get Ed pulling at his hands weakly, a facsimile of denial. 

“I thought the point of leaving me like this _was_ that everyone will see it,” Ed says through bared teeth. 

Roy lines himself up but doesn’t push in, just pressing gently against Ed, just enough pressure to demonstrate to Ed that he’s ready and willing but in complete control of the situation. He grasps Ed’s jaw and tilts his chin back with his thumb, examining his options, dark skin smooth and mostly unmarred. Ed is swallowing, over and over, like he can’t help it. There are a few nicks here and there, from fights and blades, but no teeth. Ed would never allow that.

“You initiated this game, sweets,” Roy tells Ed softly. There’s a part of him that’s waiting for Ed to wrench free, to shove him away in fury and disgust, tell him he’s taking it too far. It is too far; there’s a certain propriety that comes from scarring another vampire like this, an ownership that Roy absolutely doesn’t hold over this golden demon beneath him.

“Too scared to play?” Ed taunts, and the line of shoulders to neck to jaw are tensed, as if for a blow— but he doesn’t even press his chin downwards, still where Roy’s hands have moved him. 

Roy traces a line down his neck with his tongue, over his adams apple where it’s bobbing, pulse fast beneath his mouth. Ed isn’t known for wearing turtlenecks, or high collars. He could put it high, up near his jaw. Or he could put it down by his collarbone, or maybe at the base of his throat. Like where, if they were human lovers, Roy would have given him a locket to rest. 

“Why choose,” he murmurs aloud. He feels like they’ve spent over a century building a card tower, with occasional breaks to knock it over or burn it or drown it. If he’s going to push Edward this way, drop a whole deck on top of the fragile structure, then he may as well go all out.

He sucks a hickey against the dip in his collarbone and leaves a swell there, the heart of the locket, before he bites around it at the same time he presses in with his cockhead just a little, just enough that Ed’s writhing and gagging, trying to get away and shove back down at the same time, his wailing vibrating against Roy’s lips. 

“Fucking-- stop-- stop _playing_ with me,” Ed sobs, heels kicking at Roy’s back, leaving bruises. Roy lets go and kisses along his collarbone, to the juncture of where neck meets shoulder, and scrapes his fangs along the heated skin. Ed shivers and tries to shove down onto his cock again, but Roy’s already pulled out and away, breathing heavily in an effort to maintain his control. 

“Then stop being so _fun,_ ” he responds, biting down again. Ed’s body responds as if electrified, spine arching and limbs trembling as he stiffens, a bowstring pulled but not released, Roy’s teeth the arrow. Rather than the slow release of the last bite Roy pulls off with a snap of his head back and away so that he can watch the way the tension breaks along Ed’s body, face going slack and head thrown back as he trembles in Roy’s arms.

“My dear,” he murmurs, tracing along the shell of Ed’s ear, watching him fondly as he struggles to regain control of his body. “Have you had enough yet?” 

“Shoulda killed you while I had the chance,” Ed slurs. 

“There’s still time,” Roy assures him, lips pressed against his earlobe and breath hot and wet. He pushes in again, just a little, the same as before. 

Ed barks out a laugh. “Yeah. Sure there is, Royald.”

The goddamn menace can play him like a fiddle. Roy doesn’t even think before he bites behind the back of Ed’s ear, annoyed and losing control of his impulses. 

“Been doin’ a lot of talking with that mouth,” Ed gets out, voice high and strangled. 

“Something better I could have been doing with it?” Roy asks, suggestive and low.

“I dunno,” Ed sighs, and shifts his hips a little, the angle drawing Roy in deeper. “You seem to complain a lot about me talking for someone who could easily _shut me up.”_

“You can just ask for a kiss,” Roy teases, already leaning in. “I’d never deny you anything, sweets.”

“Oh, good,” Ed murmurs, smiling too hard for Roy to kiss him properly— but Roy tries anyways, and then Ed— 

“THAS MAH LIW,” Roy screeches. It’s a bit hard to pronounce, since Ed has put both of his fangs through his bottom lip. His shoulders are locking up in an effort to stop himself from pulling back and losing the whole thing, eyes wide and nostrils flared. 

“Mmmm _hmm,”_ Ed rumbles contentedly, and the vibration is not entirely unpleasant. 

“Ehwarr,” Roy tries. He hasn’t had a fear orgasm in _years._ He is barely keeping that record. 

“Mhhhhmmmm,” Edward says again, and Roy angles his hips and shoves into him.

Ed’s eyes widen in shock and pleasure, and venom floods from his fangs and into Roy’s bloodstream, the _monster._ Roy moans and thrusts again, pistoning his hips and chasing his orgasm before he loses it to whatever insane thing Ed’s going to do next. 

Ed pulls his fangs out, shiny and dripping with venom and their shared saliva and Roy’s blood. He grins, and breathes out, “Look at _you._ Now every time you say something stupid, you can think of me.”

He’s a glutton for punishment and kisses Ed again, proper, tongue and desperation and want. 

“I’ll get you some nice jewelry,” Ed murmurs. 

“Unlike you, I actually have class. I’ll be investing in makeup immediately,” Roy says back, lips against lips, fucking into Ed hard enough that it’s killing his knees. His _face_ , the punk bit his _face_ , of course he did, why in the world would Ed see Roy marking his neck as anything less than a challenge to ante up on? 

_“You’ll wear the fucking jewelry,”_ Ed snarls, and his shoulders flex— 

“Ed!” Roy shouts, but it’s too late, Ed’s torn his hands up the blades to the hilt, and then torn them out of the floor, is looping his arms around Roy’s neck. He can feel the stickiness of Ed’s blood hitting his neck, and the angle is alarming, in more than one way. 

“Make me,” Roy says back, and now that Ed’s hands are free he can roll them so that Ed’s on top, one hand burying in his hair to pull, forcing Ed’s spine to bow backwards, his throat bared to him. It’s beautiful, slick and swollen, blood trickling down his muscled chest to disappear into the collar of his dark shirt. Roy wishes Ed would wear something other than black if only so that he could see the way the blood blooms against the fabric. 

Ed’s hands are dangling outwards for balance, awkward and ungainly with the knives still buried in them. His eyes fall on them for a moment, and he shivers, eyes going crossed, before sharing the thought.

“I’m telling everyone I was the murderer on the cross next to Jesus,” Ed laughs, waving at Roy.

“How can you be so attractive and repulsive at the same time?” Roy moans, pulling tighter at Ed’s hair and speeding up. 

“What’s your favorite jewel?” Ed asks, arching helpfully.

“You,” Roy answers without thinking, and there’s that fear orgasm, Ed’s eyes wide and shocked, breath audibly caught in his chest. 

***

Roy receives two envelopes. He has much more than that in his mailbox downstairs, where they stacked up as he recovered. These two envelopes are special, because they appear on his fucking pillow when he steps out for groceries.

One holds a flashdrive. The other holds two bone and citrine piercings. 

The one with the flashdrive says, _Seeing how pathetic you are actually made me feel better. Don’t do it again and no one has to see this._

The one with the piercings says _The jeweler said I wouldn’t fit. I found a way._

“Hey, chief,” Jean says from the doorway, knocking lightly on the frame. He’s recovered remarkably well from when Lust broke his spine, only needing a simple wrist cane to get around. A handful of full moon transformations more and he should be mostly recuperated. “Heard you had a run in with my ex. We good?” 

Roy stares numbly at the tape. 

“I have a sex tape now,” Roy says.

“...and?” Jean asks.

“I wanted to go into _politics someday, Jean,”_ Roy snaps.

“Being immortal in the digital age kinda killed that for you already, right?” Jean points out. 

“You’re so insensitive!” Roy yells. “Just because I’ve been dead for years doesn’t mean that my dreams have to die!”

“Okay,” Jean says, and backs away. “I’m just gonna— leave you to your sex tape, then.”

“We’re breaking up!” Roy yells after him.

“Whatever makes you feel better, chief,” says Jean soothingly, who had broken up with Roy two weeks ago on account of cultural differences. “The earrings aren’t your style,” he adds, dodging the chair that comes sailing through the doorway at him.

“They’re really not,” Roy mutters.

He pockets them anyways. He’ll have to get a locket or something to keep them in. 

**Author's Note:**

> find ang3lba3 on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cryingiscooltm)


End file.
